


Flowers from God (with Love)

by DapperSkull



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Unrequited Love, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-01-30 06:16:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12647817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DapperSkull/pseuds/DapperSkull
Summary: Love was the poison that not even Gods were immune to.And so naturally it followed that anything considered to be a god killer was a people killer too.





	1. He Loves Me

**Author's Note:**

> The [Hanahaki Disease](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Hanahaki_Disease) is a fictional disease where the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. There are two versions, one where the disease can be surgically cured, but in this fic I'm going with the second version: where the victim's lungs get filled with the flowers and their respiratory system grows roots. They choke on their own blood and petals, and die.

 

Every part of a Death God was intertwined with humanity. Their very existence depended upon humans, necessity requiring that they take mortal lives to add onto their own. If one were to ask a Death God how this parasitic development ever occurred, they could not say, for they did not know why. They simply came into existence sharing a close relation to mortals. Some Death Gods even bared a striking resemblance to humans, albeit grotesque or deformed, organs having rotted in their bodies over the course of several millennia. Given the closeness of the two species, it wasn’t much of a revelation to know that the metaphorical silver bullet which slayed Shinigami was also capable of killing humans.

Should a Shinigami ever extend the life of a human out of love, that Shinigami would turn to dust.

Love was the poison that not even Gods were immune to.

And so naturally it followed that anything considered to be a god killer was a people killer too.

 

“ _Hana-whatnow?”_

“Hanahaki. It’s a disease.” Light answered Ryuk, brows raised in an unimpressed manner. He _was_ unimpressed with him, wondering how exactly it was that, for a creature who’d undoubtedly been around for centuries, Ryuk remained unknowledgeable about a lot of human things. If Light had all the time in the world to kill, he’d spend it learning as much as he could, especially all the subjects he as a human was barred from comprehending. Ryuk was squandering the abilities granted to him as a Shinigami. The human boy was very fortunate to have ended up with his notebook, at least _he_ made good use of opportunities presented to him.

“Sounds pretty painful. Is it like a cold or something?”

“No, it’s an illness humans can get if they’re not careful and fall in love with someone who doesn’t return their feelings.” Light replied from his bed, boredly flipping a page in his Anatomy textbook, “The symptoms are pretty hard to miss. The person who has it will start to cough up flower petals, and if they let it go on long enough they can actually die from it. It’s pretty stupid if you ask me. Letting someone have that kind of power over you in the first place...”

Ryuk wheezed out an amused chuckle, “Sounds like you won’t have much of a problem with that, Light.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ryuk.” Light rolled his eyes, snapping his book shut, “Of course I wouldn’t. I just told you, you only contract it if your love is unrequited. I can’t see myself actually showing interest in someone whose affection I have to fight for.”

“People fight for your affection.” The Shinigami observed, watching Light pack away his textbook, “Aren't you worried that they'll start spitting up grass, or whatever, over you?”

“I don't see how their affections are my problems.” Light dismissed, “It's a pretty rare disease anyway. Not many people get it anymore.”

Nobody loved Light. Not like that. Not deeply enough to catch the disease. His peers were infatuated with him at a superficial level; because he had nice clothes, because he was polite, and because he was conventionally attractive. They didn’t know him. Not really. And he wasn’t the only one subjected to the shallow lens society held over him either. That was his theory for why hardly anybody came down with Hanahaki anymore. People only admired others for their appearances nowadays, and any attachments that formed from little crushes were never serious to begin with. He heard it in the squeals of his sister every time she mooned over Hideki Ryuga, and _she_ wasn’t likely to catch Hanahaki for admiring a pop star. By the time anyone began forming a close enough romantic bond with someone else, it was likely that they were already dating, making any emotional connection mutual the longer the relationship progressed.  

“Sounds like romance is dead in your world if not many people get it anymore.” Ryuk commented, “If all humans think like you, it’s not hard to imagine why.”

“What would _you_ know about romance?”

“Oh. Good point.”

Light never gave much thought to illnesses (his prospective career choice wasn’t a doctor after all), even when penciling in the names of criminals into the Death Note. He had yet to kill anyone through disease, much less one like Hanahaki. Would it even work? The Death Note could not make a victim do something that they ordinarily wouldn’t do. If it was written that someone would succumb to Hanahaki, did the disease latch onto the victim’s preexisting emotions? Or would they simply die of a heart attack, since it was impossible to make them fall in love using the notebook?

He pushed his questions to the back of his mind, not terribly curious enough to put forth the effort in finding answers. Drawing open the secret compartment of his drawer, he pulled out his Death Note, flipping to the first blank page. The Anatomy lesson was over. Light had finished his school work for the night, and it was time to begin his real work.

 

The following days blended into each other. He continued to go through the daily motions of life, upholding responsibilities to school and his family. But by night he was serving society in more productive ways, he was the Bringer of Justice, easily playing both L and the Japanese Police. The subject of Hanahaki didn’t resurface again, it was a topic for the idle minded; people who had too much time on their hands and bought into that stuff of sitcoms and romantic movies. Light’s time however was fully occupied, caught between the balancing act of his duties. That’s what it really was. He was balancing, walking a steady line to keep things from falling apart. It was effortless for someone like him. It _had_ to be. If it wasn’t, if he made one misstep, all of his hard work would have been for nothing. It was suffocating, a good motivator to keep him walking that line.

It didn’t start becoming difficult until the most humiliating day of his life arrived at To-Oh University’s entrance ceremony, when L had cut through all of his expectations and exposed himself so openly for attack.

Leaving Light _unable_ to attack without announcing that he was Kira.  

He had locked himself in his room that same afternoon, lashing his frustration out on Ryuk and his desk. He couldn’t help the fury that clawed its way from his chest and throat. As he seethed, anger trembling through his arms and clenched fists, it was decided for him that there was no other person in the world that he loathed more than L. Not even the criminals that fell at the strokes of his pen.

He no longer wanted to simply kill the detective. It ceased to be a matter of getting him out of his way. Now, Light wanted to make him _bleed._ Desire tinted his vision red hot, making him ache with the need to see him suffer, to tear into him with his bare hands if need be. It burned him that he could not, that L had made himself untouchable to him--

_No._

This was a variant of the stunt he pulled with the cameras.

Like before, what made using the Death Note difficult was that he was under surveillance. The Taskforce had been watching him to see if criminals died while he had access to their information. He was still being watched, this time to see if L died while Light remained the only person outside the Taskforce who had information about his real identity. They called him the greatest detective in the world but L was only really a one trick pony, reusing the same tactics in a pitiful attempt to get reactions out of him. But Light had killed in plain sight before, having witnesses wasn’t going to be enough to save him.

“No…” He murmured more to himself than Ryuk who watched him warily,“No, that’s just fine. I have to hand it to him, it was a clever move approaching me out in the open. But nothing's changed.  I’m still going to kill him. The only difference now is that it'll just have to be while everyone’s watching, and I don’t mind having an audience.”

“But if you do that, won't people know that you're Kira?” Ryuk wondered, interested to know where he was going with this. He half hoped Light was having a breakdown, because that sounded like one of the stupidest plans he’d come up with. Which was saying something, since he considered Light to be a pretty smart guy.

“Do you remember what we talked about a few months ago?” Light took a seat at his desk chair, running his fingers through his hair to get it out of his face, “About that disease humans can get if they’re not careful about who they start to fall in love with?”

“Oh.” Ryuk slowly began to cackle with laughter when finally, he caught onto Light’s plan, “You want to infect him with some disease so when it finally snuffs him out, nobody can really blame it on you. Wow Light, you’re starting to sound less like Japan’s top student, and more like a trashy hooker.”

“Ryuk...” Light warned, his lip curled in disgust, “Don’t ever draw a comparison like that again or you’ll regret it.”

There were a few holes in his plan.

The lesser of the two problems was the image he had already established for himself in front of the cameras.  He presented himself to be a boy who enjoyed flipping through pornographic images of women in his spare time. If he came on too strongly, it would contradict the activities he did in private. That wasn’t enough to prove he was Kira of course, and while it wasn’t that unbelievable for someone to like both men and women, it was too risky.

Flirting with L was still out of the question, regardless of what size dent it made into his carefully crafted appearance. His image aside, one sided affection was all participation coming from a single party. Would L even contract Hanahaki if it _seemed_ like Light returned his feelings enough to flirt with him? The act of flirtation showed some level of involvement on his part. He needed to appeal to L’s intimate side without even teasing romance. An impossible task, something he knew so very well. The scenario was not foreign to him; under normal circumstances, lust from women fell into Light’s hands without him having to even seek it out. They never later came to him, choking up flowers with professions of love.

Neither would L.

It was a lose-lose situation. Not trying would never move L passed an infatuated stage (theoretically at best) much less fall in love with him. But trying would never set off the disease if Light hinted at a step in the direction toward a ‘romantic relationship.’

He grimaced, that phrase not being one he ever wanted to say aloud.

Hanahaki was profoundly something only an idiot could possibly get. Even Light was having trouble weaponizing it for his own gain, which proved that however it came about, you had to be stupid enough to make yourself sick. There was no simplistic way that someone else could be at fault and purposely give it to you.

L wasn’t an idiot. Light’s only choice was to outwardly maintain a platonic dynamic with him, while garnering the other man’s interest (positively that was, he was sure he had too much of a negative light on him now ) somehow beneath the surface. He didn’t know the first thing about being tempting, but he managed to be alluring to others at a lower scale without even trying. Through a little effort cloaked with subtlety, he might have a chance at pulling it off.

This was all assuming L was, or could be swayed into being, interested in men.

(Or Humans at all. )

Before anything first, he had to befriend L.

 

* * *

 

 “Man, Light. What do girls even see in you?” Ryuk criticized, “You’re trying to win a boy’s heart and you haven’t even bought flowers. How inconsiderate…”

He was reconsidering letting Ryuk channel surf for cultural purposes. The Shinigami’s audio commentary that morning was setting Light’s nerves on edge. He’d taken to handing the television remote over to the Death God to get him to shut up and leave him alone. It didn’t hurt that he had to explain less to him more and more each day, but now his cheek was something Light was finding hard to tolerate. His anger was still simmering over that prostitute joke. Nevertheless, he couldn’t berate Ryuk in public and ignored him instead. The Shinigami still didn’t seem to understand that he wasn’t trying to woo L with love proclamations. He didn’t care to explain the plan to Ryuk either. He’d just have to watch.

Today he was simply going to spend the day listening. Light could be a _very_ attentive listener when he wanted to be. Obviously L was going to guard his most precious secrets, like his name, but getting to know the things he liked couldn’t hurt. People tended to fluster, becoming flattered when you remembered things about them. L wasn’t likely to be one of these people. It would be more realistic if he actually suspected Light a little more of being Kira, but that couldn’t be worked against him. Just because the detective had a hunch didn’t mean it would hold up in a court of law.

Getting to know L would inform him a little bit about the things that appealed most to the man he intended to make care about him.

“Guess he isn’t here today, Light.” Ryuk snickered to himself as Light took a seat for his first class of the day, “Too bad. I was looking forward to seeing this.”

He agreed with him for once but was sure he was going to see him at least once during the day. Even if he didn’t, L couldn’t stay away too long from someone he suspected, not after he’d gone through all the trouble of revealing himself. Obviously he wasn’t going to cling by his side throughout the entire school day. He was a part of the Kira Taskforce too. Light just had to be patient.

Uninterestedly, he sat through the class introduction, unable to force so much as an engaged look on his face. The professor went around the room, passing out the course syllabus, explaining the class objectives for the semester. It was supposed to be exciting. The first day of college was supposed to signify the start of something new, and cherry blossoms rained upon the school grounds as if to punctuate that. Renewal. Except that he could predict exactly what college was going to have in store for him. It was nothing compared to the real events developing behind the closed curtains of his life; this was intermission smackdab in the middle of something that actually mattered.

He only had three classes, and L failed to show up at his second one of the day. Maybe he didn’t plan on showing himself after all. That was fine with him, though Light wasn’t optimistic enough to believe that maybe his suspicion dropped completely.

The anticipation that Light hadn’t known had built in his shoulders finally drained away during the last class of the day, where there was still no L in sight. Light was… relieved?

“Welcome to Criminal Procedure Law. Usually I like to begin by getting to know you all but since there are so many of you, introductions might take up an entire class period, and I won’t ask you to write me short descriptions of yourselves either...” The Instructor went on with her greeting, but Light’s attention and eyes already drifted away from her, toward the falling petals outside of the window.

The noisy smack of the door opening stole his gaze back to the events of the classroom. The Professor had been interrupted by a tardy student who didn’t even bother to sneak his way inside in a polite fashion. Light’s jaw unconsciously tensed itself, Ryuk perking up, at the sight of him.

L, with his disgusting unkempt appearance, sauntered in just like Light had expected him to.

“Excuse me young man.” The Professor chastised him, “I don’t mind you coming in late, but do so quietly next time.”

“You have my apology.” ‘Hideki Ryuga’ bowed to her, sounding insincere. He turned to take his seat, positioned directly across the room from Light. His eyes drilled into his skull.

Light forced himself to unclench his jaw, exhaling calmly, to smile at him.

“As I was saying,” The teacher picked up again from where she had left off, and Light’s blood was pounding in his ears, “I find that the best way to get to know someone is to see where they stand on certain issues. So today, we’re going to have a class discussion about a topic that’s quite the controversy right now in our world: The Death Penalty, and whether or not it’s an acceptable punishment for criminals.”

Ryuk peered down at the human he was shadowing, “Death Penalty? Heh, does she mean you, Light?”

“You, the young man who walked in late. We’ll begin with you since you were late. Please start with your name.” The woman pointed her finger at L as she called on him.

To the teacher’s credit, she now had Light’s attention. He watched the detective, knowing what he was going to say. It wasn’t going to get a rise out of him, he already listened to Lind L. Tailor’s speech on how wicked Kira was. He was prepared for the slander this time.

Besides, he had already decided that today he was going to be a courteous listener to everything and anything L was going to say-

“I’m Hideki Ryuga,” L droned, completely uninspired, “And I think all criminals, regardless of their crimes, deserve to die.”  

  _What?!_

A burst of incredulity blossomed in Light’s chest.  

He met the detective’s gaze, stunned breathless. Those charcoal black eyes that stared back into his, reading like complete bullshit.

That was a blatant lie, and what was even the point of it? It couldn't be to earn Kira’s trust. He had already revealed himself as L so it was already obvious that he didn’t believe in what he had just said out loud to the entire class. Did he expect Light to _argue_ his point?  

That was what he wanted. He wanted him to argue against Kira’s, against his own, logic.

 L was _mocking_ him.

Hadn’t anyone ever warned him not to play with fire?

It was ridiculous though, Light didn’t even have to participate in the discussion, and even if he did, he was capable of setting aside his own pride in order to Act.

But none of the other students contested him, many of them Kira supporters. The longer he remained silent, the more it seemed like he _supported_ L’s faked opinion too. His teeth grinded together, the passage of time making it seem stranger and stranger that the Head of the NPA’s son was not going to disapprove of that belief.

All eyes were on him as smoothly he countered with a hand raised, “To argue whether or not The Death Penalty is wrong seems pretty senseless. Right and wrong are pretty subjective terms that change depending on who you ask. So there’s no real right answer.”

“But your personal opinion?” L pressed.

Light hesitated before he finally settled on, “It’s natural to feel disgusted with those who’ve hurt others, isn’t it? But it isn’t up to me. If criminals are aware of the consequences of their actions, they should face whatever punishment is given to them to the fullest extent of the law.”

Kira _was_ only judging those who had known the full consequences of their actions

 “99.8 %.” L informed him without elaborating.

“I’m sorry?”

“Japan’s conviction rate is 99.8%, and according to National Registry of Exonerations, the number of criminals being released globally due to their innocence being proven has been increasing over the years. Currently, it stands at a rate of 3 exonerations per week.”

“You’re… ” Light’s brows pulled together in confusion, “implying that some of the people who go to prison are innocent? That doesn't help prove your point, you know.”

“You misunderstand. I’m only saying that the law is incorrect on occasion. Even so, I still think that every criminal should be sentenced to die despite the risk that they might be innocent.”

Light realized that, without his knowledge, his fingers had clenched into the fabric of his pants beneath the desk.

This was so stupid. _‘Don't bother trying to twist my reasoning against me, L. I'll never feel at odds with my own decisions. People who crack under the weight of their own choices aren't sure of themselves, and that's just not me.’_

“Well,” Light forced a carefree chuckle, “I can’t really do anything to change your mind if you’re set on that. It just sounds-”

“Wrong?”

Light's fists shook in his lap.

“In my opinion, yes.”

“So according to you,” L summarized, “it’s wrong to say that all criminals deserve death because some of them may be innocent? _Kira_ is wrong?”

“ _Yes._ Of course I think Kira is wrong.”

“I see.” L bit the edge of his thumb as if contemplating, “Yagami-kun has moved me. I’ve changed my opinion, and am no longer in support of Kira or his evil ways.”

“Congratulations to you then…” Light said dryly, loosening his fists. _Bastard._ _The word evil hadn’t even come up in that discussion_.

How horribly convenient it was that this was the subject they had to discuss during the only class L bothered to show up in.

They had kickstarted a debate, and as more students chimed in with their own responses, Light tuned out. He found that he didn’t really care what they had to say if they disagreed with Kira, and those who voiced their approval of him were enough to assuage his ego. Not that he needed it. Nothing L could say would ever mean anything to him.

He didn’t have to hang back after class to wait for the detective. Naturally, L came to him as he made his way out of the classroom.

“What was that about?” Light feigned confusion, _because he wasn’t supposed to know that he was a suspect,_ “You and I both know that you’re not a Kira supporter. Now I’m starting to believe you’re not really who you say you are...”

“I assure you I am. I simply wanted to place myself in Kira's shoes.” L admitted.

“Oh?” Light raised a brow, “And what was your conclusion?”

“Kira is very irrational. And also I don't like shoes."

Forget having a difficult time winning over the guy’s affection, Light was going to have more trouble not smashing a fist into L’s bug eyed face.

“I won’t argue with you there.” Light huffed a laugh, keeping things simple instead of adding on, “Do you want to grab something to eat with me?"

"Yes actually. I have a bit of what some might call a sweet tooth and find myself with a craving at the moment.”

‘ _He likes sweets.’_

Light mentally filed that away to memory.

 

When L had announced that he wanted to have a game of tennis with him after class one afternoon, Light didn’t have to guess how the man knew he used to play before. He probably had him thoroughly investigated already. It should have bothered Light more to have someone digging at his past, but somehow it felt like they were only looking at a projection. Not something that was real. Tennis had once mattered to him, but once you were the best, things just stopped being fun.

So it was really _jarring_ for him to have felt a spike in excitement as he played the game against L. It had to be more than just the fact that the detective was the British Junior Champion (or so he had said, Light didn’t know whether or not to believe him), because he had beat so called champions before. It had been such a long time since Light had to physically try and win a game against anybody. Part of that might be to blame on lack of practice over the years, but whatever the reason, he was enjoying himself. Even when he found himself losing.

“Good game.” Light extended a hand out to him when their match was over. The crowd that had gathered seemed stunned he had lost, but he kept his hand out regardless.

L stared at his hand blankly before taking it, “Likewise, Light-kun.”

They had gone out to eat like the day before, and the catalogued things that made up L grew. It wasn’t simply ‘ _He likes sweets’_ anymore but also _‘He has a habit of stacking things’_ and _‘He doesn’t like bitter coffee._ ’

And finally, _‘He suspects me of being Kira’_ when L had finally came right out and said it. Light had already expected that much.

But then his father had a heart attack, from stress not Kira, and he could practically hear the detective’s thoughts; wondering whether or not he’d kill his own father to avoid suspicion. He felt sickened by them. No, he would never, not by choice.

 He was creating a new world _for_ his father and people like him.

He would never.

(Not by choice.)

 

In the span of only a few days, Light had gotten to know all of L’s insufferable quirks. From his unhealthy eating habits, to the lazy drawl he adopted when forced into social situations. So when the man joined him for breakfast at the school’s cafeteria, Light was able to have his order ready for him.

“You’re too kind.” L lazily lifted his cup to his lips, coffee with the right amount of sugar in it.

Light smiled disarmingly at him.

Sometimes he could feel the detective’s eyes on him when he wasn’t looking. Light made sure his rare touches lingered, and his smiles seemed genuine. He became so practiced at it that it took less and less effort to force them. Each time L’s gaze settled on him, Light had to wonder if his plan was starting to come together.

Oddly enough, his eyes were never _wanting_ like Light was aiming for.

 

His mother was getting more insistent he wear a coat outside.

“Mom, I’m fine.” Light chuckled, “You’re worrying too much over nothing.”

“Worrying too much? I don’t think so.” She huffed, “I can hear you in your room all night. Make sure you close your window. You’re catching a cold.”

He only waved off her protests each time he left the house. It was Spring not Winter. The cold was actually leaving, and it was starting to grow warmer. They were at a point where it was comfortable to wear a coat in the morning but not in the afternoon.

Though, it was the season for allergies. Light had never been one to suffer from the effects of pollen unlike his sister. Despite that, he found himself clearing his throat more often, pausing to catch his breath at times he walked to school.

 

“Are you alright?” L asked him, a cautious look in his eyes when Light was overcome with a coughing fit in the middle of breakfast.

But he couldn’t answer, his hacking shaking his shoulders violently. Each breath he sucked in was wet, dragging painfully against the inside of his chest.

He couldn’t breathe-

_He couldn’t breathe._

“Your hysteria is making it worse. You have to calm down.” L’s hands were on his shoulders, _but when had he even moved_?

There was a flutter bubbling up on the inside of Light’s throat, tickling his gag reflex.

Whatever had been stuck in his chest was expelled in one final retch.  

A single white flower petal landed into his hand.

The Detective removed his hands from his person, studying him with fascination.

"Oh my-"

**No.**

 “-it appears Light-kun is lovesick.”


	2. He Loves Me Not

 

He had tried to keep it hidden for as long as he could.

 

_“I thought you only got that if your feelings weren’t returned?”_

 

 _“-but who would be blind enough not to return_ his _feelings?”_

 

_“-Yagami Light caught Hanahaki-”_

But it got out, traded as a conversation piece from mouth to mouth when they thought he couldn’t hear. He could no longer sleep easy during the nights, not when it felt like he was going to drown in his own bed. Still, he preferred the nights to the day because he didn’t have to feel their stares or listen to their whispers behind his back like he had to during class.

" _So who’s the lucky girl?”_

 

_“Does anybody know who it is?”_

 

“ _Does this mean Yagami-kun might di-”_

 “ **Stop it**!"

Light finally snapped alone in his bedroom, Ryuk’s laughter his final breaking point. He was at the lowest he’d ever been, slumped over the waste basket, and the shout left his throat feeling even more raw. The trashcan was so adorned by beautiful petals that a flower could have been torn apart by someone standing over it, and it wouldn’t have made a difference in appearance. The constant coughing in his attempts to rid himself of the build up of blooming roses in his chest had strained him over the last few days. His words came out hoarse, raspy, causing Ryuk’s shoulders to shake harder.

“It’s just so funny, Light.” The Shinigami huffed a breath of amusement, “Thought that you especially would see the uh… I’d call it poetic justice but I’m not sure I buy into that whole thing. I mean even if I did, I wouldn’t think you were a bad person. You’re kind of an asshole to me though so maybe...”

Ryuk suddenly smacked his elongated fingers against his knee.

“Irony, yeah, that’s the word I’m looking for.”

“Funny?” Light asked him, picking himself up from off of the floor, fists trembling at his sides, “I’m so glad you find my suffering entertaining, Ryuk!”

Ryuk stopped laughing for a moment to look at him curiously. It was so… interesting that the boy was taking great offense at his amusement when he’d been prepared to infect the same sort of suffering onto another person. _Guess it was only funny when it was someone else._

“No need to yell.” Ryuk held his hands up in surrender, but couldn’t help but think that Light was kind of proving his ‘asshole’ point,“I don’t think your throat can take it.”

Light coughed into his fist just after Ryuk had said that, and winced at the pain that dragged along the inside of his chest.

“I thought you said that you humans only got that silly disease if you loved someone.” Ryuk teased him, “Hiding some friendly feelings for L are you? I thought you hated the guy.”

Light shot him a dirty glare, but Ryuk thought it just looked so pitiful. He almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

“I have no idea how this happened.” Light rasped,“I _do_ hate him, and I’m not repressing anything positive for him.”

He knew himself well enough that he’d recognize whether or not he was lying to himself about anything like that.

“I’ve wanted him dead for months now. There's no love in that. How could there be?"

Ryuk chuckled a little and didn’t stop to spare Light’s feelings this time. The Shinigami was well aware that there was a saying on Earth about love and hate having thin borders between each other…

...or something like that.

That mortal adage made this situation, and Light’s confusion, just a little too... ridiculous? Cheesy? Yeah, but people so often were to him. So much that perhaps this was just an on-the-nose exemplification of that saying. To hate someone meant caring about them, because they incited a degree of emotion in another. If you felt nothing for someone, then how could you hate them?

“Are you asking me?” Ryuk wondered, snickering at him, “How would I know?”

“No. Forget it.” Light rubbed the bridge of his nose, “I’m just thinking out loud.”

Ryuk liked trying to pick through Light sometimes. It was one of his pastimes since he had nothing better to do. He wondered if the boy knew that some of his behaviors came across as slightly obsessive. He got that it was because Light was trying to kill the detective, but still. In nearly every conversation held between them, L somehow managed to come up. Light could say what he wanted to, but he was as invested in a game as any gambler, even if (or maybe especially) his life was on the line. He clearly enjoyed their silent war. It visibly excited him, especially when he was winning.

“I’ll say this much,” Ryuk finally said, “you seemed pretty happy when you got your hands on my notebook, Light. But I know you probably had some qualms about killing in the beginning. Most humans do. They say the first one is always the hardest, but then it got easier for you didn’t it?”

Light cocked a brow at him, as if silently rushing him to the point.

“Killing has become nothing for you _now_ , you don’t even bat a lash. If L had never appeared, using the notebook would have grown dull to you too. To tell you the truth, I’d have gotten bored of watching you after a while. You seemed happy when you put my Death Note to use,” Ryuk repeated, “but you seemed even happier when L challenged you.”  

* * *

 

  
His mother beams at him, like she’s happy to see Light so miserable.

“Good morning, Light.” She set a plate of food down at the table for him. He had to remember that she wasn’t happy to see him in pain, she was relieved he’d fallen for someone, and wouldn’t be so ‘lonely’ anymore. Someone who she probably imagined to be a pretty girl that he’s going to bring home after he professes his love, thereby curing his illness. Because obviously nobody could ever turn down her perfect son, and the only reason his love went unrequited was because he hadn’t worked up the nerve to properly confess.

He nodded to her in greeting, gesturing to his neck for explanation behind his silence. He wouldn’t have been so disrespectful normally, would have said something in return, but he found it was much easier just not to speak.

She hummed knowingly and said, “I’ll make you some tea for your voice.”

She hadn’t pushed him for information on his ‘secret love’ thankfully. There was no ‘secret love’ but even so, Light was thankful that she respected his space.

Sayu on the other hand…

His sister bounded into the room energetically, taking a seat directly in front of him.

“So Light,” She immediately assaulted without an ounce of tact, “is today finally going to be the day? How are you going to confess to her? I can help, you know! I’m an expert on romance, and no offense but you fall a little flat there. You’re kind of boring--”

Light sighed, a rattling sound, reaching over to give her nose a pinch.  

“You know I can’t breathe when you do that.” She whined, smacking his hand away in annoyance to rub her face.

“Because you talk a mile a minute and forget to.” Light teased her, speaking so roughly that she winced on his behalf. Whispering softly was tolerable too.

“Sayu, leave your brother alone.” Their mother chastised her, “Don’t make him speak more than he has to, his throat is sore.”

“But, it doesn’t even have to be.” Sayu made a face, “He’s choosing to be stubborn. If he just tells her, he won’t have Hanahaki anymore. I mean, who’s going to reject, Light? He’s the coolest.”

Light rolled his eyes at her 180 spin from ‘kind of boring.’

Sayu sternly narrowed her eyes at him, “She better be cute if you’re that nervous about asking her out, Light.”

An image of L’s homely appearance popped into his head.

 He snorted in disgust.

“Deciding when he’s ready is his business alone. Leave him be, I’m not going to ask again.” His mother warned, setting the cup of tea down in front of Light.

 _When_ he’s ready. Not if. A reminder of Light’s hopeless situation. The consequences of not confessing were the same if the love was not returned. He stared down into his tea cup, a sinking sense of dread settling into his stomach.

He was thankful his mom had forced Sayu to shut up. It wasn’t a thing to be excited about like his peers at school gossiped over. They were talking about something Light wasn’t likely to get better from.

He got up to head to school, having barely touched his breakfast.

“I just can’t wait to meet her, mom.” Sayu whispered behind him.

 _Just stop._ Light shut his eyes tightly.

 

.

Hoping that L was too preoccupied with the Kira investigation to come to school, Light slid into his seat for his first class. A second Kira had made his presence known through television, and while that was concerning, hopefully L had his hands full with that because Light didn’t even want to look at him right now.

Ryuk’s observation bothered Light, that he seemed _happy_  L was around to challenge him. That was so ridiculous, he didn’t have the words to tell him just how stupid it was. That man was the one thing that stood in the way of all Light’s aspirations.

(But he couldn’t deny that he’d grown discontented with life prior to finding the Death Note, because everything came so easy to him. While that was true, it was impossible to know whether or not the Notebook would have bored him over time. That was a hypothetical, who could really say _what_ he would have done if L had never stood in his way?)

Aggravated by strong fluttering in his airway, Light hunched his shoulders, trying to clear his throat quietly so to not draw attention to himself. Class hadn’t started yet, but he didn’t want to cause a scene…

He wheezed painfully, eyes watering from how much it just _hurt_ . Light dug his fingers into his chest, as if he could numb the hurting that way. Just to make it _stop_ hurting. Anything to make it stop.

What came out of his mouth was not simply a loose petal, but the head of a completed rose with few thorns pricking out of the green leaves sticking to the bottom. It was slick and spotted with his blood, something new, something terrifying. He dropped the damn thing like it burned him.

“White roses are traditional at weddings. In fact, they’re also known as the bridal rose. ” A cool voice informed him, “They’re meant to convey purity, sincerity or love. But they can also be used at funerals to express sympathy. Are you feeling sorry for somebody, Light-kun?”

It was L, pulling up a chair to unwelcomely sit beside him in that odd manner of his.

“Just myself right about now.” Light whispered bitterly, hastily wiping his eyes, “Aren’t you chock-full of useless information...”

“Not at all. The Language of Flowers can come of use. Any form of cryptology can, should you have need to pass along a private message.” L informed him, his curious eyes trained on the flower at Light’s desk, “I’ll forgive you for being deliberately obtuse because I can imagine that you’re in a lot of pain.”

Light didn’t respond, resting his head in his hands.

A hush fell over the class as the instructor stepped into the room. All was quiet as notebooks and pens were shuffled around. In the silence, he was made aware of just how closely L had seated himself to him. Their shoulders nearly touched, and the thin hairs of Light’s arm stood, raised by goosebumps caused by the unfamiliar closeness in proximity.

“You’re a very popular boy, Light-kun.” The detective stated, not paying the start of the lecture any attention, “What I fail to understand is why you're subjecting yourself to this agony. Surely the object of your affections would return your feelings?”

Stubbornly, Light kept his mouth shut.

“We're friends are we not?” L continued, “I certainly thought so. You were much more hospitable a few days ago. I would never breathe a word of what you tell me if that's where your worries are--”

 He leaned in conspiratorially, voice dropping to a stage whisper

“--you can say that I'm very good at keeping secrets.”

Light bit his lip, muffling a pained laugh. It made him cough a few times but couldn't help it. He found it funny. He knew for a fact that L believed him to be a killer. He wouldn't have bothered with the cameras or physically confronting him otherwise. Light knew he was Kira. L knew he was Kira. All that was missing was the ‘how’ since the ‘why’ was pretty obvious. So they both knew very well that no secrets could really be exchanged between them.

He played along complacently, pretending to be distressed, “I'm worried my parents won't approve.” _Oh woe-is-me, I'm too much of a good son to disappoint._

“They love you very much. Your father thinks the world of you. Would they not care first for your happiness?”

“It's a man.”

L didn't say anything. Light had to turn his head so that he could see his reaction. He wasn't sure what annoyed him more, the complete lack of surprise on the detective’s face or the faked expression of understanding.

“Your family would accept you. You're their son.” L’s hand hovered in the air for a moment before he put it down, as if he'd thought to touch him but decided better. Light was relieved, having witnessed the man stick his fingers in his mouth before, but disappointed too.

“You would really prefer dying as an alternative to them knowing the truth?” The man asked, “That doesn't seem reasonable.”

 

He had said it.

 

_Dying._

 

The word Light and everyone had been skirting around the edges of.

 

Light was going to die.

 

“Don’t _say_ that.” Light’s voice broke, never having really been strong to start with.

He hacked into his hand, droplets of blood smattering his palm.

The teacher's voice interrupted their conversation, commanding that everyone quiet themselves. She couldn't tell that it was them specifically, she could only hear that their quiet conversation had grown in volume.

“...And Yagami-kun.” She called his name apologetically, “If can't quiet your coughing I'm going to have to ask you to leave. I would understand if you couldn't help it but since you can, it's just an unnecessary distraction.”

Embarrassment colored Light's cheeks, but he nodded his head resignedly.

 To his right, L seized his wrist in a firm grasp. Light's heart stuttered over a beat at how comforting the weight of his touch was, and he almost jerked his arm away. But L pulled it over to him, pressing something into his open palm.

“For your throat. They help.”

L released his wrist, allowing Light to pull his hand back and see what he'd been given.

Nestled into his palm was the packaging for hard candy. An apology, or as much of one as he was going to get.


	3. He Loves Me

Life span was something Ryuk would never disclose _,_ leaving him with no other resources than to look at past cases of others with his condition. With a painful emphasis on _past cases._ Light, who operated best when it came to the expected, threw himself into research after the first time he saw blood. _How long did it take._

No, no. The time between now and when it finally progressed that far wasn't even something he could quantify yet. There was no point panicking yet.

Knowing that something was near but being unable to anticipate exactly _when_ could drive any man insane. For once, at least in that respect, he found he could actually empathize with those incarcerated few awaiting Kira’s judgement, left in the dark about their end of days. This is what it was like. It may not have been enough to make him feel remorseful, not even close, but he understood now.

Trashy, unhelpful articles surfaced on a single web search, more than he expected, and he had expected less worse when he started. Which certainly spoke to how seriously his illness was taken.

 

_‘It's possible to die of a broken heart.’_

 

What fucking nonsense.

 

Unless, wanting to murder your coveted significant other qualified as an act of love.

(It wasn't even that murder and affection didn't fit hand-in-hand, Light _cared_ about, loved even, humanity enough make the world a safer place for people-- there was just a difference between being willing to kill for another and wanting to kill another. That was something that went without saying, something that shouldn't have been necessary to say at all.)

It stood that the longest a person had ever lived with Hanahaki was three months with medical assistance. Three months and the chance that his life would hang on the help of hooked wires and tubes.

_It couldn't be that soon._

Light’s fingers wore at the edges of his desk.

When it rang, he almost didn’t answer his phone. Though, since he seldom handed his number out, he knew it was more than likely to be one of his family members. Reluctantly, he took his hand off of his desk and retrieved it from his pocket.

It _had_ been a family member, his father, asking him down to the location where they were conducting the Kira Investigation.

Business call.

The sound of his father’s voice hurt in a way he couldn’t recall experiencing since he was very small, frequently disappointed and not understanding. He knew _now_ that it wasn’t unreasonable for his father to be away for long periods of time. His work was important, demanding of him too. Technically, it could be said that Light was keeping him away more than he had to be.

(His father was after _him_ of course, and how could he ever call himself attention starved when his dad along with an entire Taskforce had their sights set on him?)

So his father had been gone a few days. That wasn’t new. So he didn’t know that Light was sick. That wasn’t new either. Granted, previously they had only been minor ailments such as the Flu or a Cold. So Light was having a difficult time replying, not sure he wanted to open his mouth.

“I’ll be right over.” He croaked softly into the phone.

“Son? You sound sick.” His father’s voice was layered with concern, soothing the hurt as good as any palm over the forehead during a fever. His dad hadn’t really done that for him either.

  
“If you’re sick then forget about coming down. I’d rather you rest until you’re well again.”

 

“I’m _fine_ , Dad.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

 _Yes._ _I want to see you._

 

“Of course. I’ll be there in about an hour.”

 

Light hung up after that.

What could L even want from him at this point? Inviting Light had to be his idea. There _was_ that fake Kira masquerading around as him. No, Light was sure this was about that. It didn’t matter for the moment. Fake Kira _did_ get him closer to the investigation like he wanted, and it was a nice little distraction as long as this Second Kira didn’t do anything too stupid. For now, it was the least of his concerns.

Following the instructions he’d been given over the phone, Light arrived on the floor of the investigation. Getting there was a chore, leaving him slightly out of breath. He didn’t want to enter the suite like that and settled for leaning against the wall for a moment to catch his breath. He swallowed down the fluttery sensation of flowers that wanted to come up, choking them down instead. But the little thorns attached to the leaves scraped going down. He was getting tired of the taste of blood in his mouth.

“You don’t look so hot, Light.” Ryuk commented, “If I couldn’t see your lifespan, _I’d_ be worried about you.”

The door slid open almost silently.

“Oh look.” The Shinigami chuckled to himself, “Your boyfriend came to check on you.”

Light reluctantly pried his eyes open.

“I apologize. Your current condition had completely slipped my mind.” L stated as he stepped out into the hallway, “I’ll arrange to have a chauffeur take you home after this so not to further exacerbate your lungs. Are you alright, Light?”

Light hated that he had even asked him, it was a kind of indignity really. He straightened up away from the wall immediately, not wanting L to have an advantage in height over him. It wasn’t hard to gain that edge back, L had terrible posture.

“I’m… fine, Ryuga.” He whispered, eyes creasing in an effort to hide his discomfort, “I just… needed to catch my breath for a second.”

He was forced to look at L in their close proximity, though this time he really _looked_ at him. Say there was something about L that he was subconsciously attracted to, like Ryuk suggested. What harm could further be done at this point by trying to… figure out what it was. To assess where exactly things went wrong. He got into this situation somehow, even if he wouldn't go as far as to call it love.

Curiously, he examined L’s long features, pointed chin, and dark eyes. He had qualities Light personally wouldn’t call attractive on a woman.

But L was very much _male_.

Never having seriously given his sexual orientation consideration, his ears warmed a bit. Yes, while not conventionally attractive, the detective was--

 

“Oh, it’s fine to call me Ryuga at school. But while we’re here, refer to me as Ryuzaki.” L took a step back, moving for the door, “I’ll leave you to compose yourself privately. Join us whenever you’re ready. Though, try not to take too long. It’s not very polite to keep others waiting.”

 

\--An Asshole.

“Ryuzaki then. Wouldn’t it be _only_ polite to wait on me?” Light reminded him, “I’m your guest, remember?”

“Of course. But your father is also here, and I assume you wouldn’t want him to worry about what's keeping you.”

Right, point taken.

Light took noisy breath, following the man inside.


	4. He Loves Me Not

He was dying.  
  
Realization came to him when L had been testing to see whether or not he'd chance a guess that some Video Tapes sent to a News Station were the work of a second Kira. The second Kira, who he’d only thought of as a convenient distraction up until this point.  
  
He was dying. This month was already coming to a close, and when Kira disappeared in correlation with his death, L would know. That was a thought much worse than dying. L would actually win.  
  
The possibility of losing to the detetive wasn’t what he realized. That thought had been eating away at him from the start. When he'd first come to the conclusion that his flowers were for L.  
  
“You’ve been coughing all night, Light.” His father said once they were situated in the limousine.  
  
He wasn't going to let his death mark a victory for L against Kira.  
  
To prevent that...  
  
  
  
“It's nothing, dad.”  
  
  
  
...he had to find the second Kira before L did.  
  
“One day out of the week shouldn't affect your performance so much if you stay home from school tomorrow...” Soichiro commented awkwardly, “You work hard enough to deserve it.”  
  
Light blinked a few times. That was surprising of him to say. His father rarely, if ever, took time off when he wasn't feeling well.  
  
“You don't do that.” He whispered back, treading carefully in an effort not to appear ungrateful, “I don't mean that in a bad way either.”  
  
“I don't so that you have the option to. It's true that the dedication I have toward my job is in part because I believe in doing what's right. But another large part of it is providing for you, your sister, and mother. If you have to work just as hard as I have then I've failed my job as a father to you.” Soichiro shook his head,“Don't misunderstand me. Good work ethic is important. I'm not giving you permission to slack off, but you should be able to rest. Now I'm _telling_ you, not asking, stay home tomorrow so that you can recover.”  
  
Light reluctantly nodded. Only because it didn't interfere with anything he had planned.  
  
He didn't tell him about the reason he was sick. It was likely that he'd find out anyway through his mother, but Light couldn't bring himself to say it. His dad wasn't like his mom, and would ask all the questions she didn't out of respect for his privacy.  
  
For that reason, he was willing to hold off on telling him, planning to avoid it for as long as possible. And in approximately a few months, he wouldn't be able to anymore.

 

 

.

The backs of spidery fingers skimmed along the line of his jaw that night, descending downward in a manner Light could very nearly call loving. He couldn’t see a thing, but wasn’t numb to the feeling of hands on him. They thumbed over his lips, caressed the column of his throat or pressed flat over his chest, touching any part of him they could.

The fingers at his throat pressed down softly, not applying enough pressure to be painful. But Light couldn’t move, and so he squirmed, simply _letting_ them. He _let_ them, _let_ them touch him all over. A fever flushed his skin beneath the palm that stroked his chest, brushing a trail down his abdomen and then back up again. It never moved where he wanted it most, never quelling the ache of his arousal.

When he opened his mouth to groan however, it was as if Light had inhaled water. It poured down his throat, filling his lungs and all the way behind his eyes. Struggling did nothing, if he could only squirm, he was not free to move. It was the hands which anchored him to the bottom of a sea floor, clutched onto him like vices. His pleasured groan became a silent scream of terror and--

Light’s eyes snapped open to the ceiling of his bedroom.

 

It wasn’t real.

 

It wasn’t real.

 

It wasn’t real.

 

Hazily, he wondered why the relief was taking so long to set in. It had only been a nightmare. It wasn’t real but there was an awful tearing sound in his ears. He still couldn’t breathe over a deep itch inside of him, and alarm was still ringing in his body as if it hadn’t caught up to the fact that he’d only been dreaming.

It was too hot. Much too hot. He kicked off his sheets and rolled onto his side when he couldn't take it anymore, choking up blood and roses onto his pillow.

It had been a bad idea to have looked at **him** _._ Light became acutely aware of the guilty arousal churning in his stomach. It had been such a mistake to have _looked_ at **him** that _way_. Now he was haunting Light's very dreams.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

Hesitantly, his hand trailed down to the waistband of his pants, fingers brushing just below his navel.

It just wasn't fair. **He** was supposed to be in Light's place. **He** was supposed to be the one suffering this shame.

 _Why_ did Light have to _look_ at **him** that way?

His breath hitched--

 

Oh that tearing sound had just been the sound of leaves scratching him up from the inside

 

\--at the first few touches he gave himself, imaging that they were from **him**. That **he** was touching Light, like in his dream.

Light’s fist moved in long, languid strokes, like how he imagined the older man would tease him. He pictured the man's dark eyes on him, wanting  _only_ him. Light's lips parted, and warm blood trickled down the corner of his jaw, something he didn't even _mind_.

“L…” the small whimper slipped passed his mouth.

 

He was pushed toward his climax, spilling between his fingers.

 

Chasing away the surge of relief was the rush of disgrace that resurfaced shortly after.


End file.
